


joe loves coffee

by tedbundy



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, im trash, one-sided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:51:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1725131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tedbundy/pseuds/tedbundy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>joe trohman is in shambles. very gay shambles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pete wentz is the devil

**Author's Note:**

> excuse my lack of capital letters i am trash and im lazy

god dammit, joe thinks. god fucking dammit. he doesn't need this; he has enough on his plate. he's got songs to learn and interviews to do and shit to pack for tour. he doesn't need patrick flouncing around in his sexy fucking suit with his dumb cute face, ruining everyone's day. okay joe's day. okay brightening joe's day. you better not talk to me, joe thinks angrily. patrick walks up to joe and grins a big honest smile, "hey joe, which tie?", and joe cant help but smile back. but he chooses the ugliest tie, just to be mean and not gay.

joe doesn't have a problem with being gay or having a crush on a guy. he doesn't, he really doesn't. he has a problem with having a crush on patrick. he practically lives with the guy. he's around patrick all the time, and every damn time he sees that fucker he blushes and gets dizzy and gross. every time. he just wants to get over it so it wont hurt every time he looks at patrick and patrick doesn't look back.

"hey man" pete sits down next to joe on the steps at the back of the venue theyre playing tonight. "what's up"  
"nothin" joe says  
"you're totally bumming out on me man" pete says. fuck u pete, joe thinks. fuck u and your all-knowing wiseness. joe scratches his cheek. he could tell pete, he thinks. pete wouldn't tell anyone else. would he think it was weird? oh my god thinking about it is even worse than living it.  
"lack of coffee" joe lies. pete gets it and nods, patting joe's shoulder as he stands up.  
"coffee's inside" pete says, walking back inside and smirking to himself. "coffee's watching the opening band's soundcheck"

joe sits on the steps with his mouth open for the next ten minutes. holy shit pete knows. that fucker knows.


	2. it's a bummer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> joe is bumming out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even is the plot to this i have no idea im making it up as i go

joe and patrick are in the bus drinking coffee. there's something on tv with a plastic laugh-track but joe's not paying attention to it. patrick is telling him a story about his mother and joe is smiling desperately, soaking up anything and everything patrick says, every word and stutter and cough. it's one of those days where joe doesnt think he can handle it any more. patrick is a whole universe and joe is just a little spec of dust. patrick is a black hole and joe cant run away any more. patrick is so so wonderful and joe is not strong enough to resist him. he prays that andy or pete will come back from whatever the fuck theyre off doing, because patrick is close and their knees are touching and joe is hypnotised by the steady movements of patrick's lips while he talks. 

they hear a clatter outside, and then the door swings open and pete stumbles in.   
"i swear i just maimed myself on those steps," pete says, and they all laugh easily. except for joe. joe is too in love to laugh. pete walks over and sits himself down next to patrick, swiping a sip of his coffee and grinning. when patrick is briefing pete on the story he was just telling, pete quirks his eyebrows at joe, smiling cheekily, and joe tries to murder him with a glare. how does he know? when did he start knowing? has he told patrick? joe can feel his eye twitching. he needs to leave.  
joe mumbles something about going to get a drink but it sounds sort of like "m'gon get drin" and then he frowns at himself and walks over to the little kitchenette. pete goes to join him when patrick's phone rings.  
"you looking for coffee, joe?" pete asks. smarmy little fucker.  
"no why would i want coffee i hate coffee," joe grumbles back, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another glass, topping it up with a dribble of pepsi so he doesnt feel like a complete alcoholic. when he looks up, pete looks guilty. his eyebrows are doing that concerned thing everyone loves so much.  
"i'm sorry man, i'm not taking the piss," he says, looking like a sorry little puppy and suddenly joe's not angry at him anymore.  
"i know i know," joe consoles. "it's just a bummer."

later on, theyre up on stage, 4 songs in, and joe's feeling pretty buzzed. andy's wearing a dumb hat he found backstage and looking like joy personified, flipping his drum sticks and showing off and the crowd are loving it. patrick, of course, is radiating sunshine like usual. his singing is on point and pete looks like the proudest motherfucker in the world, beaming over to his bandmates every 2.4 seconds. joe forgets about the woes of his love life for the most part, but then patrick's singing alone together and joe's face crumbles ever so slightly and he fucks up some of his chords. he's able to get back into the song pretty seamlessly but andy definitely notices. he's doing his best concerned pete wentz impression. fuck me backwards, joe thinks. he's got a night full of questions to look forward to.

he's still gross and sweaty from the show when he's sat backstage. he's slung a towel around his neck and watching the water form a little tornado in the water bottle he's swishing around. patrick's in the shower. being all naked. if no one was around right now joe would probably be drooling.  
"dude," andy says, plonking himself down on the couch next to joe. "you ok? what happened?"  
"nothing i just fucked up a bit," joe says. shut up you dumb vegan, joe thinks, feeling grouchy. andy examines his hands for a moment, picking at a callous, and then looks back at joe.  
he lowers his voice slightly. "patricks worried about you, man."  
joe feels his stomach flip. "what?"  
"he says you've been avoiding him since yesterday afternoon. acting like a right hermit."  
joe frowns. ok so andy doesnt know. "im not avoiding him on purpose." he says. "i- i'm just sorting some stuff out."  
andy nods, pats joe's shoulder and leaves, probably heading to the showers. joe whines out loud like a dumb kid bored at the shops, sinking back into the couch. this is it, he thinks. this is where i die. on a stinky sofa in boston. pining for a fedora-wearing short-ass cupcake.


	3. patrick stump can go to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he did it. he actually did it. he jacked off thinking about patrick stump. god, he feels dirty.

joe emerges slowly from the hotel bathroom, looking slightly traumatised. he did it. he actually did it. he jacked off thinking about patrick stump. god, he feels dirty. he washed his hands for about 16 minutes. jesus christ, he thinks. this madness has to end.

on the way out of the hotel, lugging his bags through the lobby, he sees patrick sat on a sofa reading a newspaper.  _fuck._ joe waddles as quickly as he can out of the automatic revolving door but he bag is too wide and he gets jammed into the tight space. the door keeps going round and round and he's getting pushed in circles but he cant get through the opening. joe's life is flashing before his eyes. it's just a series of guitar solos and progressively bigger hairstyles. he wants to scream, and he honestly tries not to, but a quiet screech bursts out of his mouth. sort of a 'hruurgrgh' of fear. he sees patrick's head shoot up and instead of laughing the little angel just looks really concerned. 

"joe are you stuck?" he asks through the glass. joe doesn't know what to say. is it not obvious? does patrick really think there's a chance that joe is orbiting the doorway of the hotel for  _fun??_

"no i'm just- my bag is just- ah fuck."

patrick stifles a giggle. "ok i'm just going to help push you out." and if only it was that easy, joe thinks later on. if only god would stop farting all over joe's life for 5 minutes.

when the door circles round and there's an opening, patrick steps inside with joe. joe's bag is acting as a barricade in front of him, which means he's squished in right next to patrick with no where to go. patrick smells like vanilla. it makes joe's stomach dance and sing sad songs from high school musical 2.

"right i'm just going to- um i'll just- joe how in the hell did this happen?" patrick looks absolutely bemused. 

joe shrugs. "dunno it just did," he says. for some reason he's trying to play it cool. he's trapped in a rotating doorway with a guy he has a crush on, and he's actually trying to play it cool. joe will punch himself for it later. patrick starts pushing joe, and in turn joe starts pushing his bag, but it's managed to jam itself in a small gap, which has made it lock into place. joe isn't claustrophobic but if this isnt hyperventilating then he doesnt know what is.

"we've gathered quite a crowd," patrick says in a dumb giggly voice. joe grunts in reply. this is his nightmare. this is his hell.

patrick goes to push forward again but joe is facing him and there isnt enough space for him to turn quickly enough, and suddenly their faces are so close joe can count patrick's eyelashes. joe's jaw goes slack and he just kind of stares into pools of blue. patrick huffs out a laugh and joe can feel it on his face. even his breath smells like vanilla what the fuck is patrick doing is he  _bathing in vanilla? is he injecting it into his veins??_ joe could get quite angry just thinking about it.

patrick shoves forcefully and joe is knocked over, taking the bag with him, and patrick falls on top of him. the crowd cheer around them, and some old lady sqawks 'congratulations hurrah!' but joe cant really be happy about escaping from his glass prison because patrick stump, the singer and guitarist of acclaimed pop-punk band fall out boy, is lying on top of him. 

joe doesnt damn people to hell very often but he makes an exception for patrick. patrick definitely originates from hell. patrick was clearly hand-crafted by satan himself just to make joe trohman horny and sad.

 

when they get to the bus pete and andy are laughing. andy says "you guys are idiots!" and everyone laughs and joe thinks  _hahahaHA YEAH GOOD ONE ANDY WHY DONT YOU WRITE THAT ONE DOWN_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the lack of capital letters etc  
> also for slow updates im not sure if anyone likes this or not it's not very good pls tell me what u think ok


	4. hurt feelings and windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's joe trohman, not jesus christ. sometimes he's selfish. sometimes he sucks.

joe hasnt been through a door since last week's incident. he wont do it. so much can go wrong when it comes to doors. he's still having flashbacks. 

he also hasnt really talked to a mr patrick stump either. he's too busy avoiding patrick to see if he's noticed so joe pretty much spends all his time off stage playing sad songs on his guitar or making complicated sandwiches for andy.

after exploring the city for most of the day, joe climbs in through the large side window on the tour bus, fucking his landing up and gracefully bulldozing into pete, who is sat on the couch watching netflix. instead of yelling or laughing or whatever, pete just silently places his hand flat on joe's face and gently pushes, placing a finger to his own lips and whispering 'shut the fuck up joe my show's on'. joe backs away slowly, pulling a face of mock offence, and heads back to his bunk to take a nap.

by the time he's noticed a wounded looking patrick sitting in his bunk, joe has already closed the heavy curtain behind him - essentially imprisoning himself in the room - and it's too late to run. patrick looks like somebody's kicked the wind out of him; his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are turned down into a frown and everything about him drips with insecurity. he looks up to joe with sad eyes.

for the first time since he dick took control of his brain, joe feels really bad for patrick. he's joe trohman, not jesus christ. sometimes he's selfish. sometimes he sucks. but sadly he's only just realising how much he's been sucking. 

"are you okay?" he asks awkwardly, begging for patrick to be sad about something else and not the fact that yesterday joe literally jumped into a bin to avoid talking to the singer. 

patrick shrugs. "i dont know, man," he chokes out. _fuckfuck fuck, joe thinks, patrick's been crying. this is so not what he wanted at all._ "i dont know what i've done wrong."

"patrick, if this is about-"

"you were in the shower for 6 hours the other day, joe," patrick interjects. "just so you wouldnt have to talk to me."

joe frowns. "i wasnt trying to-"

"you literally ran into a busy road this morning when you saw me getting off the bus."

"yeah but i-"

"yesterday i asked if you wanted to hang out and you said that you were busy 'cooking' your shoes."

joe feels stumped. he doesnt know what to say. "patrick, fuck man, im sorry." he sits on the edge of the bunk opposite pat, their knees touching. joe still feels the stupid gay butterflies, gaying it up in his stomach, flocking to him like he was king of the fucking gays. maybe he is but **now is not the time.**

patrick says "just tell me what i did wrong and whatever it is i'll apologise," and joe feels his dumb heart break. it beats into overdrive and he wants to rip it out and yell "im not a machine god dammit beat like a normal heart!"

"i dont know what to tell you," joe says. "i cant just-"

"fine," patrick breathes out angrily, pushing a hand through his hair and standing up. "fuck, joe. fine. stay pissed at me." he's had enough of joe's bullshit attitude and joe doesnt blame him at all.

 

joe sits on his own for the rest of the day. he wants to be patrick's friend again. he wants to go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to everyone for reading this horseshit


	5. the straight and narrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> joe just wishes patrick would snap and yell at him. he cant take this passive-aggressive, silent-treatment parent bullshit any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello new chapter fuckin woo 
> 
> i dont know how to write

obviously patrick has every right to be upset right now. joe knows that, of course he does, but it still hurts like a bitch. every time patrick's laughter dies down when joe enters a room is a roundhouse kick to the testicles, and nobody's addressing the situation which makes it even worse. like they're fighting in secret. joe just wishes patrick would snap and yell at him. he cant take this passive-aggressive, silent-treatment parent bullshit any more.

joe doesnt make a scene because, despite the frothing contempt patrick feels towards the guitarist, the live shows still kick ass, and joe doesnt want to ruin that.

after the show, patrick high-fives everyone except a certain jewish rock-god. joe feels a bitter wind blow through his hair. the tides must change. this will not do.

 

later on, joe and andy are playing the sims 3 on pete's xbox. andy's sim, Sim Simmons, is washing the dishes while joe's sim, Hitler Satans-Ass, is creating a large fire in the guest room.

andy opens his mouth to berate joe when patrick walks in, pete in tow, giggling about whatever it is that married couples giggle about. patrick looks like he wants to turn back around and sprint 3000 miles in the opposite direction when he see joe, but pete says 'hey let's sit and watch this for a bit', and patrick's eyes roll out of his head and he sits down next to joe. joe is using a tactic he likes to call 'too scared to fight', in which he avoids all eye contact and tries to move as little as possible, and maybe stops breathing for a bit.

eventually pete goes to bed, giving joe a weird look before he goes, but patrick stays. he's laughing at hitler satans-ass pissing his pants to death next to a toilet, and his cute little shoulders are bumping against joe's as he giggles breathlessly. his hand clamps down on joe's knee to try and stabilise himself, and all the tension and gross anger seems to dissipate instantly.

when andy decides it's time for bed, patrick and joe stay, trying to create the ugliest sim possible. every time joe adds a dumb hat or tiny arms, he turns to patrick and says 'hey it's you!', and patrick shoves into him and takes the remote, adding ridiculous hair and a huge nose and saying 'no it's you!', and it's all going great. friendships are re-established, there is happiness in the air, and joe thinks 'maybe, just maybe, there isnt a small hell demon living in my ass-crack, ruining my life'.

but then the xbox breaks. it just stops working. there's silence throughout the bus, and joe can only hear static in his head. patrick doesnt look at him; just puts the controller down and says "should we maybe sort this out."

"the xbox probably just overheated," joe rambles. "you know we've been playin it for a long time and the electricals-"

"i'm talking about us," patrick interrupts, and joe nods solemnly. "i dont even know why we're fighting" joe looks at patrick blankly. he is so beautiful it actually hurts. and maybe it's not love, but it's _like_ , and joe definitely wants to suck his dick. patrick licks his lips and studies his hands, seemingly unaware of the eyes on him. 

"i cant tell you," joe says sadly, but this just makes patrick angry again. 

he stands up abruptly. "why the fuck not? how long will this go one for? you're angry at  _me_ , joe! tell me what _i_ did!"

"i cant, pat, come on. we all have secrets."

"you're the only one who's keeping secrets, i mean fu-"

"why are you so angry about this?" joe demands, almost yelling, and patrick freezes, looking bewildered. 

"what?"

joe shifts. "im a bitch all the time, patrick! why is it bothering you so much?"

patrick looks blank but then suddenly it hits him and he looks shocked. "what the? no what the fuck are you saying? i have to just take your shit?"

"i just-"

"you know what, shut the fuck up. i dont even care. you're just talking out of your ass so i'll stop yelling at you. you're a fucking child, joe." 

 _ouch,_ joe thinks. he's never heard patrick be this mean before. "patrick, please."

"i'm done sitting around feeling bad for making you mad at me when you wont even tell me what ive done." patrick says, a crushing finality in his voice. he leaves joe alone on the couch, heading into the bunks. 

joe puts his head in his hands. he regrets wishing patrick would yell at him. he can feel his eyes stinging and he does nothing to stop himself from bawling; he can just blame it on booze later anyway. he has one dumb crush on a guy and now everything's gone to shit. and patrick was right, joe thinks. he _is_ a child. kids want everything to go their way and that's exactly how joe lives his life. 

he feels a warm hand on his back, and turns around to see a sleepy looking pete behind him, rubbing soothing circles between his shoulders while joe cries like a baby. 

"we'll sort this out," pete promises. 


	6. the man with the plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "it's not about dicks any more pete! it's about more than dicks! it's about--"  
> "please no"  
> "--destiny!"  
> "oh god."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am back and ready 2 rumble  
> (this is horrible pls forgive me)

joe has a car crash to fix. he is sitting in his bunk, curtain closed, legs all cramped with his knees crushed up against the bottom of andy's bunk, scrawling away in his notepad like a mad scientist. a mad scientist on a mission. 

he remembers his fight with patrick two days ago (which he refers to as 'the showdown') all too clearly, and the cogs in his brain are clambering over each other trying to find a way to repair all the damage his gay ass has caused. 

he chooses to ignore the man tears he shed in front of pete. even though he is a manly man, and manly men cry, he pretends it never happened anyway. it would make patrick feel bad, he thinks. it has nothing to do with the fact he is an ugly snot crier.

  


4 hours and 2 biros later, joe gazes upon his finished master plan. he smiles proudly to himself. there, in bold blue ink, reads:  


_step 1: apologise 2 pat. right my wrongs. bring justice 2 the bus._

_step 2: seduce my way into patrick's pants._

  


~

  


 joe emerges from his bunk after a long night's sleep. he's feeling good. sharp.  _brave._ it's a driving day today, which is usually bad news because of the mind-numbing dullness, but not today. today it means there is nowhere for joe to run. he _has_ to make patrick happy again. 

in the lounge area, patrick is drinking coffee and looking generally disgruntled. he did not sleep like joe 'bag of bricks' trohman. he slept like a goat being chased by wolves and falling off a cliff. he is so full of worry for someone so little.

pete sits himself down next to patrick as soon as joe walks through the curtain and over the border from the safe zone into touchy territory. he's already had a heart-to-heart with patrick; assuring him that joe is working through some stuff and needs some time to work out where is head is at and please dont be mad at him for being a giant pissbaby. 

joe sits down on other the sofa next to the boys. it's crunch time, he thinks. time to transform into a godly angel and dish out peace and harmony to patrick stump; to replace the anger and resentment with joy and goodwill; to look deep into patrick's soulful eyes and say 'o! ye of little faith, i beseech ye: bring forth your anger so i can bless it with my charms and good looks.'

"h-how's it hangin'," joe manages to stumble out eventually. 

"im good," pete pipes up. patrick barely manages a 'hmrphmh' before sinking back into the couch, training his eyes back onto judge judy. a show that is essentially an ageing woman shouting at people has never been so enthralling.

joe shifts awkwardly in his seat. the bravery has left him and he's left with a sort of gnawing anxiety. this is heightened when patrick wordlessly leaves his seat to walk quickly to the kitchenette.

pete looks towards patrick and then to joe. "now is so not the time to play it cool, man."

"i was warming myself up ok... you cant rush perfection."

pete sighs heavily. "joe this isnt perfection, this is you wanting patrick's wang."

"it's not about dicks any more pete! it's about more than dicks! it's about--"  


"please no"  


"--destiny!"  


"oh god." pete cant believe this at all. he could handle lust but love is a scary thing and joe's eyes have gone really wide and oh dear god this cannot end well. he cant even yell at joe because patrick is back and clutching two beers nervously, his stare shifting between pete and joe.

"well i'm going to do a thing now, see ya," pete says, getting the hint and shooting to his feet, hurrying off to the bunks. patrick raises his eyebrows at joe, handing him a beer. joe goes slack-jawed and takes it like he's being handed the fucking shroud of turin.

there is an odd silence before patrick starts to ramble. "look man im sorry ok im so sorry, i shouldnt have gotten mad at you. you're doing your thing and you need space and it's your life not mine i have no right to get angry im really sorry."

"no no, im the dick here we all know it," joe smiles, earning a smile back in return. ah, things are easing into a lovely warm bath of happiness, joe thinks. it's a shame i have to ruin it. "patrick i have to talk to you about something."

  



	7. jesus take the wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this conversation has taken a dramatic turn and if it doesnt end soon joe's penis may explode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry 4 the wait + thank u for the comments they r lovely and warm like a butt
> 
> this is awful im v sorry :((

time has frozen. joe clutches his beer tightly in his fist, beads of sweat prickling his forehead. it's game time. time to rock n roll. straight into patrick's heart and hopefully his pants. 

"what is it?" patrick asks, maybe slightly impatiently. oh ok time didnt freeze, joe was just taking forever to answer. his confidence is gone and it doesnt seem to be coming back. he could only have relied on his incredible model good-looks for so long, he knows that. now to sprinkle on the charm. to dazzle patrick with the poetry of love. to prove, once and for all, that honesty truly is the best policy.

joe clears his throat. "ok so i have this friend," right that wasnt a great start on the honesty front but ok, joe will roll with it. "and he thought he was pretty much straight, but it turns out he's 110% gay-o-sexual."

patrick frowns slightly. "right."

"it also turns out that he has a huge,  _blistering_  crush on his best bro-dude," joe sometimes talks like a surfer when he's panicking/talking out of his ass.

"oh ok so you want some advice for your friend?" patrick asks, and joe cannot tell whether he's falling for it or not. patrick looks so sincere, sounds so genuine, that there is a small chance that he has completely believed joe's lies. amazing. truly a spectacle for the ages.

joe remembers patrick asked a question and nods quickly.

patrick thinks for a second. "right so i mean, i know how this guy feels. i too am very much not-straight-" _wow ok joe didnt see that one coming_ \- "and i know its hard when youre always around the guy youre crushing on, and you have to deal with the awkwardness and the sex dreams and everything else."

joe smiles happily until his brain catches up with the situation.  _sex dreams??_   _did that just come out of patricks mouth? ??_ OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW. 

patrick scoots a bit closer to joe, putting his beer down on the table. an ikea table. bought in 2008 and costing $38-- **why is joe thinking about tables. 'focus!' he thinks. 'FOCUS!!'**

"does your friend need any more advice?" patrick asks sweetly. if he's faking this whole oblivious thing, joe is impressed. the sneaky weasel is quite the actor. 

"um.." joe fidgets in his seat. "uhh, uhrhhh pftfubub yeah! yeah he does!"

patrick nods for joe to continue. 

"he just doesnt know what to do about the situation! he knows this guy is gay--" (well he does now)

patrick leans back against the sofa. "so why doesnt he just go for it?"

"because he's a giant pissbaby," joe sighs. harsh but true. he needed to speak those words outloud to bring himself inner peace. also because he's very emo.

patrick leans forward again, turning so he's facing joe head-on. he licks his lips and smirks in a way that makes joe want to take a cold shower. the guitarist can feel the blood pounding in his skull. this is  _so_ not raven.

patrick is looking a damn sight sexier than joe is right now. patrick looks like a professional seducer, whereas joe looks shocked to the point where the risk of pant-wetting is very high, and very real.

"maybe," patrick breathes, his face inches away from joe's. "we should demonstrate how easy it is, just to prove it to your friend."

"maybe," joe half-whisper, half-shouts. his voice is all raspy. this conversation has taken a dramatic turn and if it doesnt end soon joe's penis may explode.

joe scoots forward a bit, turning himself so he's facing patrick, and smiles at the sight of patrick leaning in, closing his pretty eyes and parting his lips. this is it, joe thinks. the olympic flame. the arc de triumph. the great pyramids of giza.

"hey guys! im back with pizza!" pete yells, and patrick and joe jumped apart like they've hit an electric fence. joe can feel his dick's sad face emoji. ' _im sorry, lil dude. pete will pay for this. i will get my vengeance in this life or the next.'_

 


	8. death valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "god is dead, pete. god is dead and YOU KILLED HIM."  
> "is this about patrick's dick?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omG sorry for the slow updates ive discovered anime im trash  
> thank u ALL for ur comments theyre lovely and so are u!!!!!!
> 
> ((this whole chapter is rly dumb im sorry im making this thing up as i go there's no plot BUT THERE WILL BE ACTION NEXT CHAPTER))

it has been a whole week. A WHOLE WEEK. it has been 7 days since pete 'cock block' wentz interrupted the gayest moment of joe's life, and nothing has happened since.

 

patrick has been acting completely normal; thats the worst part. patrick asshole stump has been skipping around the bus without a care in the world, making joe cups of coffee and folding his clothes and calling him 'mate' and 'dude' and 'buddy', and joe is furious. 

 

pete walks into the kitchenette on the monday. the 8th day of hell. he adjusts his crotch in his tight jeans before flicking the coffee machine on and pushing 4 slices of bread into the toaster. he can  _feel_ joe glaring at him in his peripherals.

"hello peter," joe says coldly. pete rolls his eyes grabs 2 mugs from the cabinet. joe rolls against the counter until he's nose to nose with pete.

"you are a very bad person, peter," he says, and pete frowns before realising what the fuck joe is talking about. he huffs, spooning sugar into the mugs.

"dude it's been a week-"

-"8 days," joe corrects. pete rolls his eyes again.

"exactly. its not my fault that you havent made a move."

joe throws his arms into the air. "THE MOVE HAD BEEN MADE, PETE! THE MOVE WAS MAKING ITS WAY INTO MY MOUTH! BUT YOU RUINED IT"

pete scrunches his face up. he doesnt really want to know about joe's mouth. he pours coffee into the mugs and stirs the liquid idly, thinking about pizza and aliens and anything else he could to block out the _tap-tap-tap_ of joe's foot.

~

 

they played a good show tonight. joe knows it was especially good because andy skipped off-stage and yelled about how good it was.  patrick stood there, smiling like the ANUS he is, all sweaty and hot and out of breath, and his shirt was kind of see-through and joe could see his skin through it and ---

"hey joe, do you wanna get coffee with me tomorrow morning?" patrick asks sweetly, and joe looks up like a deer caught in headlights and nods unevenly. patrick grins a big dumb stupid fuckin asshole grin and dances off to thank the crew members. 

 

~

"god is dead, pete. god is dead and YOU KILLED HIM." joe stands, arms crossed and leaning against the wall in the bathroom of the hotel. his face is aching from the worry lines he's been wearing all evening, and he waits patiently for pete's reply to this harrowing accusation. 

"is this about patrick's dick?" pete asks, scrubbing his hair with lemon-scented conditioner. 

"what if he's going to break up with me?" joe shouts into the shower to pete. he hears pete laugh and then slip.

"you're not dating."

"tHANKS TO YOU!" joe yells, throwing an empty shampoo bottle over the shower door and listening for pete's wails of pain. it misses and bounces off the tiles into the door, making a dull sound.  

pete sighs, loud enough for joe to hear it over the shower. "talk to him over coffee, you moron!"

joe paces the steamy bathroom, kicking over the pile of towels and grumbling under his breath. he hears the shower stop and he hands pete one of the towels but not before wiping his nose on it. 

"look man," pete says, stepping out with a towel wrapped around his waist. "you know pat. he wouldnt just lead you on for fun."

joe sighs, blinks slowly and then pats pete's cheek before turning to the door. 

 

~

 

joe pulls out his diary when he's lying in bed that night and clicks his pen. 

' _dear diary'_ he writes messily, holding the book above him and writing like that. ' _tomorrow is the day of reckoning. will patrick give me the d? who knows, only time will tell. i shall channel my suave charm and be a tru gentleman over coffee. i will even stir his cappuccino for him. and then we will make sweet sweet love and nothing bad will ever happen again'_

he closes his book and puts it to the side of him, and thats when his phone goes off. he answers it without looking at the caller id, which is lesson he shouldve learned from the stalker plumber situation of 2009.

"joe, have you seen patrick's phone?" it's andy. andy 'i will only ring you when you are about to slumber' hurley. 

"no is it missing?" joe asks, and andy grunts out a 'yes' and joe;s eyes widen. he ends the conversation quickly and stares up at the ceiling, a small smirk plastered on his face.

 

if he can find patrick's phone before coffee tomorrow........... well. patrick will be woo'd for sure.


	9. transmission fluid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i may lose my life for patrick stump. but it will be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fUCK im so sorry this has taken ages and its rly not worth it at all   
> i will try to post more often ok ily all

four hours later and joe is folded up origami-style in the boot of the tour bus. he went in to look for patrick's phone but the door shut and trapped him inside. its been about 40 minutes but joe isnt exactly sure because it's so dark it feels like he's lost in the deep void of endless space.

 

he takes the biro and notepad out of his jacket pocket and starts to scribble notes even though he cant see what he's writing:

_i may lose my life for patrick stump. but it will be worth it._

 

joe imagines a mass candlelight vigil that will be held for him after they discover his body. pete will write a 6 hour poem to read before and after the service. maybe andy will get a tattoo of joe's face with the words 'fallen hero' underneath in script.

 

"i cant die like this," he breathes out. "im so young, so handsome... i have so much left to do."

joe finds some stray reeses pieces in his pocket and eats them slowly, one by one. he can physically feel his hope leaving his body. 'some people shit themselves when they die,' he thinks. 'what if patrick finds my beautiful body but ive shit myself.'

the sound of footsteps wake joe up from his brief nap. he listens intently, not wanting to draw attention to himself just in case it's patrick. patrick stump would not fall massively in love with a man trapped in the engine of a bus. he can hear muffled talking; something about tattoos and veganism. andy hurley.

"andy!" joe half-yells. "andrew!"

there's silence for a beat and then the sound of footsteps coming even closer to the engine. "joe?"

"yes! andrew!" joe screeches, his voice squeaking with relief. "open the door!"

"wait- hang on- hold on," andy stammers. "hang on..."

"oPEN THE COCKSUCKING DOOR!"

slowly, hesitantly, the door is opened, and andy is met with the sight of his friend and bandmate joseph trohman, folded up neatly next to a cold engine. they look at each other for a while. joe's face is neutral, as if joe had caught him reading a book or making a cup of tea. andy looks mildly horrified.

"i honestly have nothing to say, joe."

  
****

joe is running now, approaching sonic the hedgehog speed. he has 3 minutes to meet patrick for coffee. he has slept for 0.3 minutes. he smells strongly of transmission fluid. there arent bags under his eyes anymore; they have evolved into suitcases.

he now realises that there was no way patrick's phone would have been in the engine. patrick is not a mechanic.

he's sure there's a small chance patrick will look at him and see a rugged dirty badboy model, but those chances are slim. this could be the end of their nonexistent love affair.

when he reaches costa, he can see patrick through the window seated on a small table near the back. joe is exactly one minute late.

joe sits down opposite patrick, getting ready to explain that he is only late because he was busy being a hero, but then he realises that patrick is texting. on a phone. his phone. patrick is texting from patrick's phone. his own phone. the phone that he lost. patrick's phone. patrick's-

"what happened?" patrick splutters. "you looks like you've been in a petrol explosion."

"well," joe says haughtily. "i have had quite the day."

"are you alright?"

 _no. no i am not alright patrick stump. i am not alright you vicious traitor. how dare you find your own phone._ "yes."

patrick frowns, his eyes focused on joe's cheek. "you have a bruise," he says, squinting a bit. "or some dirt."

joe touches his own cheek and winces. ah yes, he remembers, i collided with the engine door as it cruelly slammed shut behind me.

patrick leans over, bracing one hand on the table, and brushes his fingers lightly over joe's injured cheekbone. his face radiates concern, and then something else, but joe cant tell what it is. he's trying too hard to suppress a shiver.

"i hope it doesnt hurt too much," patrick says softly. "are you hurt any where else?"

"um"

patrick continues to stroke the pad of his thumb across joe's cheek.

_yea pat my dick hurts can you stroke that._

patrick pulls back, clearing his throat as his face flushes slightly. joe just blinks owlishly at him.

"anyway, um, do you want something to drink? coffee?"


	10. turning point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is it. joe can feel the light of heaven raining down on his glorious face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hA who said i couldnt update this within 6 years
> 
> SO MUCH DRAMA. U GUYS WILL NOT BELIEVE THE DRAMA IN THIS CHAPTER. PREPARE UR BLADDERS.

after coffee, joe and patrick got a cab back to the hotel. the journey was mostly quiet; fuzzy music played from the stereo and patrick drummed his fingers on his knees, and joe stared out of the window and thought about walnut cake.

 

the bus was empty. pete had left a little note saying 

                                            'goodbye losers, gone golfing. meet u @ sound check xoxoxoxx'

and then he'd drawn a picture of a man hitting a golf ball with his dick.

 

patrick put the television on, kicking his shoes off and placing his hat on the table. the bus was dim and the tv lit up pat's face, making him look beautiful in a futuristic angel kind of way. joe wanted to kiss him so badly it was making his eye twitch.

 

when finally sits down, the atmosphere on the bus drops like a giant sack of dead squid. no one says anything. patrick just stares at the tv. joe starts his descent into madness.

_what is this patrick? what are you doing? you are supposed to kiss me. this is the part where we kiss and maybe sing a song about how great the kiss was. oh my god you think im ugly dont you. whats the matter patrick, dont you like jewish people? you sick fuck. you sick racist fuck._

 

"are you hungry?" patrick asks, shocking joe out of his spiral of anger. joe shakes his head.

 

there's some more uncomfortable silence. joe can hear a clock ticking. there isnt a clock on the bus, but joe can hear one ticking. its so loud. it sounds like the end of days.

 

"how, um," joe stutters, "how did you get your phone back?"

patrick looks at his phone as if he'd already forgotten. "oh, pete found it."

"how lovely," joe says.  _fuck. fucking suck my angry nipples. that fucking judas trashcan. how dare he steal my thunder._

 

more silence. joe can feel himself aging. he can feel the wrinkles forming on his tired, dashing face; the grey hairs snaking their way through his scalp. he can hear patrick's dick calling out to him, 'you will never have me, joseph. i am too mighty for you'

 

"you tried to find my phone, didnt you?" patrick asks. his voice is really quiet and soft. he sounds shy.

joe shifts awkwardly. 

"you got stuck next to the engine of the bus?"

joe shifts again, crossing and uncrossing his legs. was it weird to look for your dear friend's phone? was it weird to care about your pal? your buddy? was it weird to crawl into a strange opening on a bus, putting your own mortal life in danger, just to find your good chum's mobile telephone?

 

the engine starts and they start driving. 

 

patrick takes a deep breath, wringing his fingers. "joe?"

 

"yeah?"

 

"i know."

 

 _shit. motherfucker shit fucking ass damn fucking shitting pissfuck._ "know what?"

 

patrick stays silent for a bit, looking at joe with a look that can only be described as 'fearful'. then his face softens. he scoots around so he's facing joe, and he smiles, big and unashamed. 

 

it's a smile joe recognises. its the smile brad pitt wears when he looks at angelina. its the smile troy bolton wears when he looks at gabriella. hell, its the smile joe wears when he looks at patrick. 

 

this is it. joe can feel the light of heaven raining down on his glorious face. he can hear a hundred angels sounding their trumpets- their trumpets of love.

 

"joe," patrick says. "i really like you..."

 

_holy shit this actually was it._

 

"in like a friend way?" joe asks. patrick shakes his head.

 

_hOLY SHTIHST THANK YOU GOD THANK YOU JESUS_

 

"i-" joe starts, but he's interrupted.

 

there's a scream from the driver's seat.

 

the bus lurches to the side violently. joe can hear glass smashing and tires skidding.

 

then he cant hear anything.


	11. rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why does it smell like hotdogs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im laughing guys im so sorry about this godless garbage heap of a story  
> im also sorry i took so long updating  
> im sorry about how crappy this is  
> basically im just sorry

there is nothing but darkness, and a deep throbbing.  _am i dead? is this hell?_

joe can feel the blood in his limbs. he can feel the buzzing of nerves in his fingertips, and he starts to open his eyes.  _how long have i been out for?_

he sees patrick and instantly closes his eyes again. he wonders how bad the crash was; he thanks god that patrick seems ok. he doesnt know the extent of his own injuries yet, but he feels pain in his head.  _maybe theyve had to amputate my skull._

"joe, you nob, wake up," pete says from somewhere far away. the smell of hotdogs wafts into joe's nostrils.  _wait. why does it smell like hotdogs? aren't we in the ICU of a hospital?_

 

joe finally opens his eyes and looks straight ahead at patrick, who is playing on the xbox. he turns and sees pete making hotdogs over a small stove. it looks like a penthouse suite. it smells a bit like atlanta. 

"h-how long was i out for guys?" joe asks, his voice raspy. pete walks over, holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says 'kiss the chef', but he's crossed out 'the chef' with a sharpie and scrawled 'my dick'.

"you were knocked out for like 3 minutes, joe," he says, "and then the nurse gave you some painkillers and you fell asleep talking about how graceful your 'hero's death' would be."

 

 _ah._ joe thinks.  _this is... embarrassing._

 

pete walks off to finish cooking his hotdogs and patrick pauses his game and leans over, looking like a worried mother hen.

"are you ok?" he asks, and joe tries not to blush at how close patrick is. "i hope you don't mind the hello kitty bandage on your cheek."

_fuck._

 

_~~_

 

a couple of days later, still at the hotel, and the crash is mostly forgotten. forgotten by everyone except joe, who brings it up at every possible moment, like when they're eating burgers and joe stops and says, "this cow died for us... almost like i died for us", and everyone groans loudly.

 

later on, joe is staring at his cheek scab in the mirror. it is an impressive lil guy, and joe is proud of his hero's injury. he doesnt know what patrick is into, but he hopes its a rugged, injured man who just survived a major traffic accident. 

 

wait. patrick. patrick stump. patrick who confessed his love for joe trohman. his gay homosexual love. for joe. joe trohman. who is also gay. and in love.

 

joe starts running. he doesnt have to run far, and to be honest the running is unnecessary, but he runs anyway. runs the entire 6ft to the sofa to see patrick, who is sat watching reruns of cake boss.

"patrick," he says, for once in his life getting straight to the point. "look, we need to talk."

"yeah, i know, but--"

"if you like me, and i like you... that's it! boom! bon appitit!"

"joe, i-"

"it's so simple! if we want to do this, we can do this! we can be the next big power couple! the next brangelina!"

"joe, stop." patrick says, and joe is brought to a halt.

his elation is lowered by a few thousand notches when he sees the look on patrick's face. pat doesnt look happy at all. he doesnt look like he's found an infinite bucket of love and joy. he looks like he ran over a cat.

"joe, look, please just listen," patrick says, grabbing joe's hands. "i meant it - what i said. i do like you."

"ok," joe says. it's all acceptance and no understanding, and patrick knows he's going to have to explain himself.

"i really like you. i have for a long time. but i- we- this-" he exhales and looks joe dead in the eye. "i dont know if this will work."

 

joe feels his guts twist up. _no no no please no._ he feels a sack of bricks slam down onto his shoulders. 

"why not?" he asks. it's the first time he doesnt feel like cracking a joke. 

 

patrick rubs his thumb over joe's knuckles. his hands are soft, unlike joe's, and theyre warm. joe wants to cry.

"it's complicated. it could go wrong. we could really mess this up, and then what? i dont know if we can go back from that."

"so... you dont want... to be... with me."

"i do, i just cant. i'm sorry. i should've thought of this before i told you anything."

 

joe gets to his feet, feeling wobbly. he'd built up this conversation so much in his head. he'd planned so much, but he'd never thought of this. he'd never taken into account that patrick would say no.

 

when joe leaves the hotel, pete is stood outside, arms open. joe walks into the hug and tries not to cry like a big ugly baby.

"im sorry, joe," pete says. "everything will be ok."

 

"nah," joe says, wiping his face. "he doesn't want me; it's cool. i'm fine."


	12. update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pls read this if u liked this fic !

helo friens

im think about updating this fic again so if u would like that pls leave a comment ! (i dont want 2 update this if nobody's interested sobs)

anyways thank u all 4 reading this far !


	13. joetrick could be Iconic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the worst timed break possible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back,, back again , , backstreets back ,tell ur friens

for the first time in more years than joe would admit, the 4 month break is unwelcomed. the gay tension, as pete poetically put it, is throwing the band off balance. patrick didnt look at the joe for the entire meeting.

 

the first week went by so smoothly joe couldnt even believe it. he wore the same set of pj's everyday, he watched bts save kpop in the mama awards, an fuck he drew like 700 pictures of himself in various sensual poses.  _i'm over him,_ he thinks as he pours a can of red bull into his instant noodles.  _i was never even under him._

 

3 days into the second week, there's a knock on joe's door. it's not a accompanied by beatboxing (which rules out pete), or an extended drum solo in its own right (ruling out andy) - its soft and musical and the second its finished, joe feels a familiar ache in his chest.

 

he's 3 feet from the door when he realises he's wearing pjs with a tear in the crotch and there's peanut butter in his hair; he's turning away to fix his appearance when the door handle starts to turn and joe remembers he gave patrick a key.

 

"wha-- hey!!!," patrick says, shocked to say the least and struggling to be polite. "you... you look well rested."

 

"ive been playing sonic pinball for the last 48 hours," joe replies, smoothing the peanut butter into his hair, trying to fool patrick into thinking its hair gel. "but thank you. you look... fine."

 

patrick looks more than fine; patrick's wearing a soft oversized jumper and tight jeans - joe almost creamed himself when he saw patrick's thighs. joe probably looks like a 800 year old cat that washed up on the beach last week in comparison.  _i pull it off,_ he consoles himself desperately.  _i'm an ancient dead cat and i fuckin rOCK this look. i would FIST myself if i could, tHAT'S how good i look right now. i would dick myself down so fast that i--_

 

patrick's voice rings out. "you want a drink?"

 

*

 

patrick makes them both coffee. it's a throwback to the beginning of the year for joe - when his little crush was only ruining his life a little bit - and the memory is so vivid he has to sit down. he can barely even believe that there used to be a time where he wasn't afraid to even talk to patrick, let alone be one of his nearest and dearest.

 

"we're okay, aren't we?" patrick asks. he's got those doe eyes again, the ones he uses only for joe. 

 

joe shakes his head without thinking and rushes to save himself. "no, we're better than okay, we're great!" 

 

"that's good, then," patrick says. joe isn't sure if there's disappointment in pat's voice or if he's just imagining things. "we can just move on from this. "

 

there's a moment that seems to stretch on forever and it surpasses every other Forever moment joe's ever had to suffer through - even the revolving door incident which still  **haunts him**.

he's trying so hard not to read too much into patrick's movements but the singer's wringing his hands together and staring into the grey area past joe's head and fuck, he looks more nervous than joe feels.

 

and then joe stops thinking and starts to lean forward, and he's surprised to meet patrick in the middle, and then they're kissing and joe feels like he's so in love he could explode. patricks lips are soft and slow and joe follows his lead, scared of messing up and ruining things again.

 

"um," patricks mumbles against joe's lips, his voice shaky and quiet. "i'm- i don't know what i'm doing."

 

"we can stop if you want."

 

"no, no," his hand reaches up to touch joe's cheek and they kiss again - no more than a peck. "no, i don't want to."

 

 _this is the pinnacle of my life,_ joe thinks, but patrick's eyes start to feel wet against his face and suddenly kissing him stops being fun and starts to feel like he's doing it to hold patrick together.


End file.
